


Possession

by skywardsmiles



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywardsmiles/pseuds/skywardsmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey has spent a lot of time thinking about Mike, but never that he might be dating someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

Harvey had never spent a lot of time thinking about his coworkers outside the confines of the walls of Pearson Hardman. It was none of his goddamn business who they were dating or if they went home at night to seven cats (even if imagining Louis with a hoard of cats did make him smile a little), anymore than it was theirs who he fucked or what he did in his off hours. Even who they were as people only really mattered so far as what kind of lawyer it made them, or whether they could do their job in a timely, proficient manner. Anything more than that constituted interest and caring, and it just wasn’t something he had a lot of time for.

Which is maybe why it threw him so much seeing the flowers on Mike’s desk. Out of everyone that he’d ever worked with, he found himself thinking more about what Mike did outside the office than anyone. But his associate was prone to making bad life decisions, and someone should be thinking about his wellbeing, and if he’d eaten more than a muffin all week. That time, though, had never been spent thinking that Mike might actually be dating someone.

“What are those?”

Greg snickered quietly until Harvey shot him a look, before returning his full attention back to Mike.

Mike had blinked at him before tugging the earbuds out of his ears, as though he’d maybe misheard. “What?”

Harvey nodded to the flowers. “Those. What are they?”

“Roses,” Mike said, and Harvey swore he saw a blush creeping up his neck. “If you’re asking for the exact species, I really don’t know.”

“Never wanted to be a fake gardener?” Harvey asked, leaning closer and keeping his voice low, but mentally, his mind was still racing at the idea of who would send Mike flowers. Now that he was thinking about it, there was the blonde girl – Jenny, he thought was her name – but she had never seemed like Mike’s type. Anyone who counted themselves as a friend to Trevor didn’t have too much going for them in the mental department. There was the paralegal Rachel that he’d caught Mike making eyes at more than once, but he thought that had sizzled out pretty quickly, if the looks they gave each other now indicated anything.

Mike had just smirked at him and nodded to the files in his hands. “Are those the Wescott briefs?”

Harvey handed them over, but even after he’d walked away, he couldn’t quite get it out of his mind. It was possible that someone in his family had sent them, but they were from a higher end floral shop in Midtown, he’d recognized the store name on the card. Harvey didn’t really think anyone in Mike’s family could afford that (or if they even knew where he was working).

He started paying closer attention to the times that Mike arrived and left for work, and nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary. He still showed up a few minutes later than everyone else, looking flustered and with helmet-hair first thing in the morning, and he still spent most nights camped out at the office, working on whatever Harvey threw at him.

If he was dating someone, he obviously wasn’t seeing them very often.

Once or twice, Harvey even tested the waters, holding files he needed the next day until later, just so Mike would have to stay an extra hour or two. It was probably cruel, but Mike never batted an eye.

“Can I work in your office?” he asked, already scanning the first page of the brief Harvey had just handed him. “The janitors get pissed when I stay in the associates area this late.”

“Sure,” Harvey said, turning to lead the way back to his office. Mike scrambled to catch up, carefully balancing a multitude of highlighters with the files, but he fell into step easily beside Harvey. He hadn’t really intended to stay this late himself, but if he was an asshole making Mike stay well into the night, he could at least suffer too. And it would give him a chance to see if Mike told anyone he was coming back late. “I’m going to order food.”

“Pizza,” Mike said, claiming his usual spot on Harvey’s couch once they were in his office. It might have been the guilt, but Harvey even let him order the cheese in the crust.

He settled down behind his desk, cracking open a file. From that position, he could see Mike from the corner of his eye, shifting around to get comfortable, but definitely not reaching for his phone. “If you need to make any calls, you should do it now,” he said, looking up at Mike for his reaction.

Mike just smiled back at him. “Just order the pizza, and let’s do this.”

*

The next time that it happened was an accident. The entire office had slowly been drowning in the United class action suit, but now that they’d finally reached a settlement, instead of slowing down, everyone was still frantically trying to make up for the work that had been pushed aside. 

Harvey’s back was beginning to ache from sitting too long, and the sun had long since set. Most of the office had already cleared out, since everyone seemed anxious to get started on their weekend, but if Mike minded being holed up in Harvey’s office on a Friday night, he didn’t say anything.

Still, it was getting close to 10PM, and even he wasn’t a slave driver all the time. He looked up, ready to announce it was time to go home, but something made him pause. Mike was staring hard at the file in front of him, his eyes scanning the page at rapid speed, and Harvey let himself feel a brief moment of respect, and maybe a little jealousy, for how Mike could get lost in his own headspace so easily. Harvey could never let himself be that focused on anything, because he liked being aware of everything going on around him. Mike poured himself entirely into everything he did, to the point of oblivion. He looked calm now, though. Unguarded.

“Let’s call it a night,” he said suddenly, closing his own copy of the brief. Mike looked up for the first time in almost an hour, startled.

“But doesn’t this have to be done by Monday?”

“We got most of the legwork done.” He stood, re-buttoning his jacket. “I can finish it.”

Mike took a second to look momentarily stunned by his reprieve from working over a weekend, but then seemed to realize it for the gift that it was, and scrambled to his feet. “Thanks, Harvey.”

They walked together to the elevator bank after Harvey had gathered up their work, and as Mike checked his phone again, the itching feeling that had been bothering Harvey surged back to the surface.

Realistically, he knew that it didn’t matter at all if Mike was seeing anyone. It obviously hadn’t affected his work. But it struck Harvey as odd that Mike – who shared everything, all the time, even more than Harvey ever cared to know – wouldn’t have mentioned something at some point. He almost felt offended.

“You okay?” Mike asked, and Harvey frowned back at him.

“Fine.”

“Then why did I have to ask twice?” He hesitated, shuffling one foot along the floor of the elevator. “I can take the work home, I mean, it’s not that much.”

A distraction actually sounded good, though. “Am I not giving you enough work? Because we can find more for you to do.” He waved his hand, shaking his head. “Consider this a reprieve.”

The smile Mike gave him was almost blinding, and Harvey’s stomach did a strange flip, that probably meant he was just hungry. Yeah, that was it. And actually, he couldn’t remember the last time that he’d eaten.

They stepped outside together, and Mike reached for his helmet out of his messenger bag.

“Are you hungry?” Harvey asked, looking over at him.

Mike was fastening the strap of his helmet under his chin. He somehow looked even younger like that, the absurdity of the helmet and the suit together making him look like a little kid playing dress up, and Harvey’s fingers itched to reach over and adjust the hair that was peeking out from under the helmet. His stomach twisted again, almost painfully. “Starving, why?”

“Follow me.”

There was a split second of confusion, but then Mike was tugging the helmet back off again and following Harvey through the darkened New York streets. There were a few people spilling out from bars, but it was early by drinking standards, and everything felt quieter. He expected Mike to ask where they were going, but he just gave Harvey a light smile instead when he caught the other man looking.

“My grandmother keeps asking to meet you,” Mike said, after the silence had stretched on, and Harvey raised one brow at him.

“Why? She want to ask me why I thought you were worth the time of day? That’s a question I ask myself daily, and I still don’t have an answer.”

Mike smirked, shaking his head. “No, I think she probably wants to ask you why you’re working me into an early grave.”

Their shoulders bumped as they entered the restaurant, a small sushi place decorated rather plainly. But Harvey had eaten at almost every restaurant that would deliver to the office in a mile radius, and this was the best he’d found. Though if Donna had been there, she’d claim that she’d discovered it (and she had, but he wasn’t going to let her win that easily). “I can take back the free weekend, you know. If you want to keep insulting me,” he said, once they were seated at a table.

If anything, it just made Mike smile more. “But then I can’t do laundry.”

Laundry? Those were Mike’s big weekend plans? Of course, laundry wasn’t going to fill two days. And maybe he’d be doing it with whoever he was seeing. Why did that thought bother him so much? When he realized it had been too long since he spoke, he cleared his throat. “You’re kidding, right? I don’t know which to be more appalled at. That you do your own laundry still, or that that’s your idea of a good time.”

“You really send all your clothes to dry cleaning?” Mike asked, wrinkling his nose. “Even your socks? That seems like a total waste of money.”

“And that suit seems like a total waste of fabric that should have been burned, but you thought otherwise.” He opened his own menu, not looking at him. “But to answer your earlier question, no. The suits are dry cleaned, Sharla does the rest.”

“Sharla?”

“My housekeeper.” He smiled at the waiter who appeared, ordering two glasses of wine.

Mike leaned back, looking amused. “So you’re saying that I should get a housekeeper? To do my socks?”

“I don’t think we pay you well enough to find someone willing to clean whatever dump in Brooklyn you live in.”

He mock gasped, pretending to be offended, but smiled afterwards. “And what’s so wrong with Brooklyn? It’s got a lot more personality, and I don’t have to sell my soul just to be able to afford it.”

“There are worse things to sell your soul for than a high-rise with a view, trust me.”

“There are better things, too.”

They continued like that until they’d cleared away their plates except for the fried bananas, which Harvey and Mike both swore they couldn’t finish.

“I think it’s time to go,” Harvey said, putting one hand on his shoulder. They weren’t anywhere near drunk, but he felt pleasantly flushed from the alcohol. “I’ll walk back with you the office. Wouldn’t want the puppy getting lost.”

“I can probably navigate better than you,” Mike smirked, tapping his forehead. “I’ve got every street in New York up here.”

Harvey nodded thoughtfully. “But what you don’t have in that giant brain of yours, is any common sense. So come on.”

It was colder than it had been before, and the buttons on their jackets they’d undone during dinner, they quickly redid before starting the trek back to the offices of Pearson Hardman. “This was really fun,” Mike said, smiling across at him. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Don’t go buying matching china patterns just yet, it wasn’t a date or anything.” They paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the traffic to clear. “I kept you here late, for once not because you failed at finishing on time. The least I can do is feed you.”

“It was still nice,” Mike said, but something about his voice seemed off. They stopped in front of Mike’s bike, and Harvey was already glancing around for taxis as Mike re-fastened his helmet. “I’ll see you Monday, Harvey.”

When he looked back at him, Mike was watching him with something Harvey could really only describe as lingering, and his stomach did another weird flip as he waved and then rode away. Which was strange, because Harvey definitely wasn’t hungry anymore.

*

Harvey couldn’t quite put his finger on it at first, but something was different about Mike the next week. He turned down an invitation to join Harvey and a client at one of the nicest steak houses in town, claiming that he had too much work to do – and when Harvey offered that he could work late in his office on Tuesday, Mike insisted that he stay at his desk, because he got more done there. They still saw each other every day, but Harvey swore Mike was avoiding him.

But he himself was still buried under a mountain of work, so he didn’t think too much about it. Mike probably had it even worse, since no matter how many times Harvey spoke to Louis about it, he knew he was still insisting some of his cases take precedence, and Mike was terrible at saying no.

It carried on like that for another week after that, though, and Harvey found himself missing the time they used to spend in his office, or talking over a business lunch. He hadn’t realized how much time they were spending together until that time suddenly seemed almost nonexistent. When it carried on into another week, Harvey definitely wasn’t questioning it anymore – Mike was avoiding him.

It was the only explanation for why Mike seemed to find it hard to meet his gaze when he dropped off files, and he had taken more to switching up where he was working (Harvey had spotted him in the library, the file room, even once in a storage room), so Harvey was forced to leave things for him on his desk rather than handing them over in person. 

When he got back from a client meeting on Friday, Mike was handing over a stack of files to Donna, and it was such a relief just to actually see Mike in front of him.

“Are those the Mickley briefs?” he asked, stopping beside them. At any other time, the wide-eyed expression Mike had on his face might have been funny, but now it was mostly just puzzling.

“Yeah,” Mike said, fidgeting. “Did you need anything else?”

“I just finished meeting with Ted Mickley, who approved the merger, so you can start going over those when –”

“On it,” Mike said, before what Harvey could only describe as fleeing.

He frowned after him, before turning his attention back to Donna. “Did I run over his puppy or something?”

She stopped typing long enough to fix him with a hard gaze. “Maybe you should focus more on fixing it. Because I can’t take you both moping anymore.”

“Moping? I do not ‘mope’.”

“You’ve looked like someone stole your favorite toy for weeks,” Donna said, pointing toward the associate area. “And I said to fix it.”

“Why do I put up with you?” Harvey sighed, but when her expression hardened, he held up his hands. “I’m going, I’m going.”

He found Mike already back at his desk, and when their eyes met, Mike tried to pretend they hadn’t and reached for his earbuds. He wasn’t quick enough in the end, though, and Harvey leaned over Mike’s desk. “My office, in ten minutes. Or we can do this here. Your choice.”

Mike shot him a pleading look, but nodded.

Donna frowned when he got back to his office so quickly, but thankfully didn’t comment. Harvey sunk back down into his chair and rubbed a hand over his face, going over in his head again just what had happened to change Mike’s attitude. They’d been fine a few weeks before, and then he’d given Mike the weekend off. Maybe something had happened. Harvey had pretty much decided Mike wasn’t actually seeing anyone – he just didn’t have the time, as even with as little as Harvey had seen of Mike recently, he knew where he was at almost any given point in time, and it was almost always the office. But maybe something had happened with one of his friends, or his grandmother, and he didn’t feel comfortable sharing it.

“You wanted to see me?” Mike asked, stepping into his office and breaking his chain of thoughts. “I was just going to get started on the merger, I’m really pretty busy, so…”

He looked thinner, if that was possible, and there were rings under his eyes from lack of sleep. It wasn’t that uncommon for him or any of the associates to go a night without sleep, though. His damn tie didn’t go with his shirt at all though, and Harvey was already mentally trying to pair a fabric that would actually suit him. There was something else just under the collar of his shirt, though, and Harvey frowned, peering at it, until – Oh.

Maybe Mike was seeing someone after all.

“Why do you have a hickey?”

Mike frowned, touching the side of the neck Harvey had seen the spot, and confirming Harvey’s theory. He definitely flushed this time, popping the collar of his shirt up to hide the mark and making an annoyed sound. “I didn’t get high, okay?”

Harvey blinked at him. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what I asked.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Mike’s expression was shifting from embarrassment to something darker. “No, what you asked is pretty inappropriate. I didn’t break our little circle of trust, so you don’t get to be mad at me.”

“Who said I was mad?”

He looked flustered. “No one, but I’m just saying, you don’t get to be. My personal life is none of your concern, you made that pretty clear.”

Harvey leaned back, wondering just how big of a hole Mike felt like digging himself into. “How exactly did I do that? Because from where I’ve been sitting, you’ve been actively avoiding me.”

This time, Mike definitely did look guilty. Harvey waved a hand at him. “I’d love to know what you think I’ve done.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Mike sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s my problems, not yours –”

“You are my problem, so if it’s affecting you, I need to know.”

Mike shook his head. “Has my work suffered at all?”

The corners of Harvey’s lips twitched from the effort to not lie. Because the truth was, the work hadn’t suffered, not from a paperwork standpoint anyway. He liked having Mike around to bounce ideas off though, and he felt they worked better like that. A team, so long as Mike was the plucky sidekick and Harvey got to save the world at the end of the day. If he’d wanted someone to keep their head down and file paperwork, he’d have chosen someone from the pool of associates waiting just down the hall.

He didn’t know how to articulate any of that, though. Any more than he knew how to explain why he couldn’t take his eyes off the spot where he now knew the hickey was hiding just beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

“That’s what I thought,” Mike said, taking a step back. “I’ve got work to do.”

Harvey made it through the rest of the day without going to Mike and demanding to know what was going on, but he somehow found himself standing outside his apartment door a few hours later. Well, he knew how he’d gotten there – a drink alone at the Harvard Club, followed by a generous bribe to a taxi driver to take him all the way out here.

Now that he was there, though, he wasn’t certain why he’d come. He knocked anyway, hoping for the best.

Mike answered the door in jeans and a t-shirt, and it struck Harvey how odd it was that they spent so much time together, but rarely saw each other outside of their office clothes. Even Jessica he’d seen in jeans more often. And while Mike often struggled to fill out some of his suits, he looked at home in the well-worn tshirt. He also had the decency to look nervous.

“Are you firing me?” he asked, even as he stepped aside. “Because I know I was totally out of line earlier.”

“You were,” Harvey said, taking the invitation and moving inside. The place was nicer than he’d expected, but he still hung back by the door. “But so was I. I had no right to ask you that.”

“It was just a question,” Mike said, still eyeing him carefully. “So you are firing me. Because there’s no other explanation for why you’d be in Brooklyn.”

“As misguided as I may have been, I actually thought we were friends. That’s a good reason.” It was bullshit, and even he knew it. While the words were true, the real reason he was here was to try and sort out what was going on, because something obviously was.

Mike’s cheeks reddened anyway. “I said I was sorry and I meant it, Harvey. It won’t happen again. Do you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

While Mike moved into the kitchen, Harvey took a moment to really look over the apartment again. It was decorated with odd little knick-knacks, but few family photos, he noticed. There were blankets and a pillow stacked neatly on the sofa, as though someone had been sleeping there. “Had company?” Harvey asked, and he meant it innocently (even if his tone took on a little more bitterness than he cared to admit), but Mike’s eyes went wide a fraction too long, and he realized he’d hit onto something. “Oh, so you did.”

“He stayed a few nights,” Mike said, bringing over a beer for Harvey.

“He?” Harvey paused at that. “You have a boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Mike said, quieter. “And I know I should have told him to go stay somewhere else or to go to hell, but he’s my oldest friend, and –”

“Wait, _Trevor_ was here?”

Mike frowned at him, starting to get annoyed. “Yeah, he was. He’s not now, I wised up.” He took a swig from his own beer. “Though it’s still none of your damn business.”

“He’s nothing but trouble,” Harvey snapped, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why would you even let him in the front door?”

“I was lonely, okay? Christ. It’s not like I even have friends anymore. Jenny won’t talk to me, Rachel barely will, the associates all hate me, I can’t talk to you lately.”

“Right here, kid,” Harvey said, frowning at him. “You get you’re the one who’s been avoiding me, don’t you? And talking to a pet rock is a better option than Trevor. Or whoever you’re dating.”

Mike flushed again, and Harvey narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “Is Trevor who you’ve been seeing?”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Mike insisted, taking a step back when Harvey closed in on his personal space. “But yeah, if you really want to know, I let him fuck me. It’s hardly the first time. And I’m allowed to make my own decisions.”

“Not when they’re stupid ones. Why the hell would you do that?”

“Why does it matter to you who I sleep with? Or do anything with?”

“Because you’re mine,” he growled.

Harvey didn’t realize how far he’d gotten into Mike’s personal space until they were staring each other down – Mike looking like a deer in headlights, and Harvey could only imagine what his own expression looked like.

“Am I?” he asked slowly, and Harvey could see some of the tension draining away from his expression, even if the fear didn’t leave. “Because you didn’t seem too interested.” He was angling his body toward Harvey’s in a clear invitation, but also giving him enough leeway to turn and walk away, pretend this had never happened.

Harvey chose Door Number One.

He backed Mike up against the wall, closing the distance between them with a bruising kiss. Mike gripped onto him like he was going to fall without the extra support of Harvey pinning him in place, and his hands were simultaneously everywhere – tangled in Harvey’s hair, fisting his jacket, running along the back of his neck.

In all his time thinking about Mike, Harvey hadn’t imagined _this_ \- but Mike felt right, under his weight, and he just wanted more. “This is a really bad idea,” he said, when Mike let him up for oxygen, even as he ground their hips together.

“I’ve had worse ones,” Mike said, pushing at Harvey’s jacket until it was laying on the floor. “Like not doing this sooner.”

Part of Harvey wanted to object to the loss of friction and touch as Mike pushed him off and moved to drop down to his knees in front of him, but the sight of him, desperate and staring up at Harvey for permission, felt like too much. He curled one hand into Mike’s hair by way of answer, watching him make quick work of Harvey’s trousers and his boxers, pushing them down around his ankles.

Mike pressed kisses along his stomach while he wrapped one hand around Harvey’s cock, leaning in to the firm hand in his hair. He looked gorgeous like this, and Harvey wondered for a brief moment why he’d never imagined this scenario sooner. 

“Yeah, that’s good,” Harvey sighed, as Mike’s tongue trailed down slowly along his length, before taking him into his mouth. He definitely knew what he was doing, and Harvey sent himself a mental reminder to kill Trevor at a later date in time, or anyone else Mike had ever practiced this with. He was a little preoccupied at the moment, though.

Mike stroked him quickly, working more towards the finish line than drawing it out, and Harvey’s fingers tightened in his hair as he sucked harder, moving over him. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Harvey gasped, tugging a little sharper at Mike’s hair. He received a pleased hum of approval in return.

It took less time than Harvey cared to admit before he was nudging at Mike to give him some warning, before he moaned quietly and came. Mike swallowed what he could, but some dripped down to his chin, a sticky line connecting them when Mike pulled off slowly, turning his eyes up to meet Harvey’s gaze.

“Jesus,” Harvey breathed, cupping his chin. “You really are trying to kill me.” He knelt down beside Mike, ignoring the way his knees protested, and eased Mike onto his back on the floor instead. He cleaned him off with his tongue, working a hand between them and into Mike’s jeans. He was already hard, and Mike leaned his head back, moaning in appreciation at Harvey’s urgent speed.

Mike whimpered against his ear, wrapping one arm tightly around him. “I want to do this again,” he gasped, turning his head to press his nose against his neck. Harvey could still hear the quiet pants of breath, though, and the way his breath hitched when Harvey squeezed him. “Please. Please.”

“We will,” Harvey swore, covering the mark Trevor had left on his neck with his own mouth. “Mine,” he whispered, and with a few more stuttered thrusts of his hips, Mike was spilling out onto his hand, gasping into Harvey’s skin.

“Yours,” Mike said, when he’d managed to find his voice again. He leaned his head back again against the hardwood floor, his fingers loosening their grip on Harvey, but refusing to stop touching him.

“Well,” Harvey said, smiling. Mike lifted his head to look at him, and he broke out into a full smile. “So you’ve been avoiding me because you were afraid you’d jump me at the office?”

Mike snorted and pushed him a little. “Sushi was totally a date.”

Harvey thought back on it, and agreed, but he pretended to mull it over until Mike swatted at him. “Hey,” he said suddenly. “Who the hell sent you those flowers at the office a few weeks ago?”

He sighed, pressing his face into Harvey’s neck. “The other associates think I get special recognition from you on a lot of the cases, so Greg sent them to me trying to be a funny asshole. It didn’t bother me, but I thought if I threw them out, they’d think that it did.”

“Huh.”

On Monday morning, if Mike had a bouquet waiting on his desk that was almost the size he was, that was no one’s business but his own. And maybe Harvey’s, but that was between them.


End file.
